


Habibi, ya nour el ein (my love, you're the light of my eye)

by nightfever



Series: Train of Thought [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Muslim Original Character, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 04:44:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11775753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightfever/pseuds/nightfever
Summary: When a bowl of cereal pulls a tired doctor miles outside of her home in Brooklyn, why else would it be than to find her soulmate.





	Habibi, ya nour el ein (my love, you're the light of my eye)

Blinking away the sleep that blurred my vision, I checked the dash, eyeing the glowing numbers wearily. Today had been my day off and instead of staying in and sleeping like I had wanted, my rogue mission for cereal had taken me long into the night. I didn’t know how long I had been driving or where I was but I knew that it was time for me to go home and rest by any indication of how many times I had yawned in succession.

Rolling my eyes at the flicker of childhood paranoia, I rolled the windows down to feel the breeze; knowing the chill would jolt me back to consciousness. I didn’t want to turn back yet despite the fact I had been driving for hours, like the tether keeping me in my city had snapped and a somewhere on the horizon was calling me.

I sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair back into my hijab and pulled down a dirt road I almost missed. The road was surprisingly long and widened out, although not long enough for me to turn around. Eyeing the forest on either side of me, I rolled my windows back up, wondering if I had imagined the face in the trees. I gave a huff of disappointment as I hadn’t found a place to turn and rubbed my eye, letting out a quiet cheer as lights came into view; casting a glow onto a large building.

Two people stood on a patch of grass just off the gravel and I parked, shutting off the engine and grabbing the map from the glovebox. Bracing myself for any negativity, I fisted my abaya and stepped out of the car.

“Hi! I’m a little bit lost,” I began as the man and two women approached me, “Uh, I don’t exactly know where I am - could you possibly point me back to Brooklyn?” I fumbled with the map for a moment, trying to find which side showed the city I called home,

“You’re from Brooklyn?” the redhead asked jokingly,

“London, actually,” I smiled, “Just staying in Brooklyn for the time being. Almost as troublesome as home,”

“What’s London like?” the man inquired, grabbing a corner of the map,

“Uh,” I paused and laughed, trying to describe the chaos, “There are more pigeons than people but whoever hasn’t been replaced are pretty nice,”

“Sounds like your kind of place, Sam,” the brunette mentioned,

“Pigeons aren’t real birds, Wanda,” Sam frowned, one hand holding Brooklyn in place as he tried to find out current location,

“I think ‘bird’ by definition is a creature that flies and will do anything for food. My neighbour’s cat was attacked by pigeons when she tried to walk past their feeding frenzy,” I mentioned offhandedly. At the startled looks, I nodded, “They’re ruthless. And cats don’t have any street cred - my brother saw one get eaten by a fox once.”

They looked at one another before returning to the map,

“Sounds like the Wild West,” Wanda muttered and I hummed in agreement.

They gave me the directions and I thanked them profusely, grinning as I moved back to my car as that could have gone a lot worse.

“C’mon, Wilson,” the redhead said, linking her arm with Sam’s. My gaze flickered up from the map to the treeline as I ran what she had said over my head.

“ _ Wilson _ ,” I mouthed, feeling the name roll from my tongue, “ _ Sam _ Wilson. Samuel Wilson?” I scratched my cheek as I whirled around, nearly losing my footing on the gravel. “Wilson?” I called, struggling to piece together a sentence that made sense, “Sam Wilson?”

The group turned to me and I tugged up my abaya so I wouldn’t trip, although knowing me I’d still find a way, “ _ Samuel Wilson _ ? I’m - I’m just repeating myself -” I paused, nervously tucking an imaginary strand of hair back into my hijab with a trembling swipe of my hand as I prayed my nerves weren’t showing in my eyes and that my legs would stop trembling. Swiftly tucking the map under my arm and wiping the sweat from my palm, I stuck out my hand for him to shake, “Solaine Lauper - pretty sure you’re my soulmate. About fifty percent - maybe thirty,” I blurted. “This is a terrible introduction.  _ Horrendous _ \- appalling. Uh, I’m just making this worse aren’t I?” Sam shook my hand with a nonchalant shrug,

“Could be worse,” he smiled and I had to force myself to tear my gaze away otherwise I would’ve fallen despite the fact I had frozen in place with what was probably a very star-struck smile as I held his hand. “Would you like to come in?” Sam offered and I gave a small smile,

Well, I found you guys,” I 

“Of course.” He offered his elbow and I linked my arm through his, clutching my abaya like a lifeline to not only stop myself tripping but ground myself. ‘ _ I need to call mum _ ,’ I thought excitedly, ‘ _ And get a grip. He’s just a person - you’ll spend the rest of your life with him. Chill out _ .’

“I’m usually a lot smoother,” I commented, the crinkling of the map making me wish I had left it in the car, “I just tend to get a little flustered sometimes,”

“It was fairly cute,” Sam said, knocking shoulders with me and I smiled at my trainers. Stepping into the building, I couldn’t tell if the goosebumps were from the nerves of touching my soulmate, albeit innocently, or the warmth that chased away the cold.

“Are you cold?” Wanda asked and I bit back a grimace,

“Freezing. I would’ve grabbed a hoodie but I wasn’t supposed to be out this long,” I answered with a small embarrassed shrug.

“Who's this?” a voice questioned as we descended down a flight of stairs into a living room type area,

“This is Sam’s soulmate, Solaine,” the redhead replied with an obvious smile in her voice,

“And you just found her?” Tony Stark guessed, “That seems a little suspicious don’t you think,”

“Very,” I agreed.

“I wouldn’t believe her until I see her soulmark,” Tony Stark added, tilting his bottle of golden alcohol in my direction. I wrinkled my nose at all the alcohol that lined the wall, wondering how much it costed and how much damage it would cause on their organs,

“Do you not agree with that?” another voice teased,

“No, no, that’s a perfectly rational request,” I said, unlinking my arm with Sam’s to adjust my hijab.

“Are we going to see it?” Tony Stark observed and I frowned, offended,

“The ladies can but you can’t - we’re not married and you’re not my type, anyway,” I retorted, biting back a glare at his attitude. Wanda and the redhead, assuming she was the mystical Natasha Romanoff of the Avengers, chuckled and lead me to a room down a corridor, just out of view of the lounge and occupants.

With an annoyed sigh, I undid my headscarf and let the fabric drop, seeing as it was part of the abaya.   
“He didn’t know how rude he was being, right?” I scowled, tugging the thin material over my head and placing it on the counter beside me after folding it deftly. I was stood in only my pyjamas, my fancy velvet shorts and old Disney shirt, “It was my day off,” I sighed, “I don’t get them often so I was planning on chillin’ and treating myself.” I pulled up the oversized shirt and shifted my bra so the band wasn’t covering the handwritten-looking ‘ _ Samuel Thomas Wilson _ ’.

Natasha leaned down to inspect the soulmark and I gave Wanda a smile, feeling a small twinge of embarrassment,

“That’s as real as it’s going to get,” Natasha said eventually, “Sorry about Tony,”   
“It’s no problem. I deal with assholes at work all the time,” I said, “Do you mind if I make a quick phonecall?” Wanda looked to Natasha then nodded,

“I see why not,” she smiled, leaving to give me privacy.

Calling the most recent number, I placed my phone on the counter to slip on my abaya and do my hijab while I waited for Maryan to answer. The call went to voicemail and after hopping from foot to foot in deliberation I decided I would call mum in the morning.


End file.
